


For Whom the Bell Tolls (It Tolls for Thee)

by callmeKestrel



Series: We Own the Night [1]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28938735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeKestrel/pseuds/callmeKestrel
Summary: V had been a part of Special Operations for the last six years, her body had been made, or perhaps remade for the purpose of raining destruction and terror upon the enemies Arasaka pointed her at. She had been forcibly evolved into something not quite human, something other. Reinforced bones with carbon fiber, monofilament sheathed muscles capable of pushing her harder, let her run faster than the general combat enhancements Arasakan agents usually received. Her nervous system fine-tuned and overclocked, extra nerve endings woven into her whole body; V was able to detect the slightest change in air pressure, internal compass always pointed north, hear the buzz of her own brain’s electrical impulses. At first, she hated it, hated that they had taken her humanity and sense of self, and turned her into a weapon. It had taken months of conditioning, of living on the edge of society and small-time operations for her to truly master her body and exhibit the iron bound control she had now. But she had been their pet project, their special special agent, always one step ahead; maybe that was why they zeroed her without regard to her impressive curriculum vitae; solve too many problems and eventually you start to create them.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Judy Alvarez/V, V/River Ward
Series: We Own the Night [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153994
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	1. The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, I take a lot of inspiration from other sci-fi/futuristic literature. Looking to go through the bulk of main missions from CP 2077, focusing on the dynamic between V and Johnny, and of course the other main characters that play major roles. Drop a line and let me know what you think!

_Thunk_

_Thunk_

_Thunk_

V comes to with a throbbing headache at the back of her skull, pounding in time to whatever is moving around outside of her apartment. The banging continues, accompanied by the comforting sound of rain against her window. 

“Gotta get out of here, understand? And I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way. You included.”

_Thunk_

The voice isn’t overly malicious, and V can’t even force herself to move as someone is leaning over her, one silver hand on the bed next to her face.

_Thunk_

_Thunk_

_Thunk_

_Thunk_

_“_ Need a smoke. Where’d you stash yours?” A man’s voice, irritated and rough pulls V from fitful rest.

V rubs at her eyes, pressing in with her palms until galaxies bloom across her vision. She forces herself to sit up and focus on the man in front of her, “…Don’t smoke.” She is on her feet, staring at the stranger in her apartment.

“Then go out and get some. Just need one last one!” The raising of his voice makes her head throb even more, and she can’t keep the bewilderment out of her tone, “Jesus fucking Christ, man!”

The past twenty-four hours come back to her; Viktor telling her about the terrorist in her head, the bottles of pills on her nightstand, Misty brushing hair from her face and holding up a medallion. A medallion with a bullet, a partially smashed on one side bullet, a bullet pried from her skull _after that filthy fucking backstabber_ –

V cuts off that train of thought and stumbles her way to the bathroom, turns the water on and cups her hand under the faucet, washing the taste of metal from her mouth, but the memories overwhelm her with a vengeance.

_Takemura shakes her awake roughly, asks if she can hear him,” I need your help.” They are driving away from the landfill, her intended final resting place, and she can’t stop the nervous laugh from bubbling in her chest; she chokes on it as it leaves her. An airhypo is thrust into her hand, and without prodding she pops open the buttons on her fancy-dress shirt, now covered in blood and filth and gore, exposing the shunt on her chest. She sighs as the smatter of data flashing across her UI is lessened, breath coming a little easier now that her nanos are hard at work piecing her back together. It doesn’t minimize the ache in her head, and one of her optics is fried. She reaches up to poke at her sparking optic before Takemura is batting her hand away and sticking a pistol in it instead._

_Someone roars up to them on a motorcycle, snarling engine making the pain in her head twist, and she doesn’t wait for Takamura’s signal before she is unloading the entire clip into the Arasakan assassin tailing them. She wonders if she knows him, the wheezing chuckle it elicits causes her to hack blood into her palm; her head hurts sofuckingbad –_

_Takemura is dragging her away from his car, assassin pinned between the hood and a concrete support; the pistol is still in her hand and with a final cry of anger she shoots him one last time, his head splitting open brings her a solitary moment of satisfaction before Goro kicks the weapon out of her hand._

V is pulled from her bloody reverie, “The fuck kinda joytoy are you s’posed to be?” The man, _Johnny_ , asks snidely.

 _That_ gets her going; V stomps back to where he is leaning against the wall next to her bed and gets in his face,” Fuckin’ ghost _off_!”

He glitches away from the wall, appearing in front of her, both hands coming up to shove her to the floor; she lands hard on her back, and can’t stop the grunt that accompanies it. A shiver of pain worms its way up her spine.

“Who you work for? Start talkin’!” His silver fist is raised above her, poised to strike, and she automatically raises her arm in defense.

_What?_

V turns her hand, looking at the implants on her palm, and the specter above her does the same, “Fuck!”

“Fuck…” V thinks the man is agreeing with her.

“Fuckin’ chip…” One hand goes to play with the neural slots behind her ear, feeling the outline of the Relic shard plugged into her head.

“Rip the thing out myself!” Her own hand is working against her, pressing against the chip to unlock it.

“No, wait!”

Before the chip can slide all the way out her vision goes black, static dancing across her eyes.

* * *

V groans, the pain lancing through her skull reaching a crescendo as she rubs at her temple. She is on the floor, next to the bed, one arm slung over it in an attempt to push herself upright and before she knows it, she’s looking out the window, at a rain drenched view of Night City, somehow still sparkling despite the gloom.

_I’ll take control._

Her body moves against her will, nails digging into the wall as she slams her head without warning into the glass pane.

_I’ll FIND a way!_

The second slam causes her nose to break, blood spurting against the window.

_You HEAR me?_

She can’t even cry out as the third meeting of her face and the window drenches her shirt in blood, her mind fizzling into darkness once more.

When she comes to, she is perched on the edge of the bed, omega blockers in hand; she can’t quite recall how she managed to sit up, all she can focus on is the swirling mess of emotions not quite her own.

“See you never, asshole.” V is so full of rage she can’t even force her eyes to focus, hands shaking so badly she almost drops the bottle of omega blockers from Viktor.

“Not like that! Stick some iron in your mouth and _pull the trigger_.” One hand reaches out for her chin, forcing V to look at herself in the reflection of Johnny’s sunglasses before slapping her across the face. V can’t stop the gasp that escapes her throat, and all she can focus on is the torrent of thoughts passing in front of her mind’s eye; not her thoughts. Her UI is scrambled, glitching in and out of focus and only adding to the headache stalking around her apartment. The force of his hand had pushed her off the edge of the bed, and she instinctively curls around herself on the floor.

_I can feel it… our minds… touching…I’m like mold on fruit… creepin’ into you… nothing I can do about it._

V pulls herself along with her arms, muscles burning as she forces herself the last few feet to where the omega blockers are scattered on the floor. Johnny’s furious thoughts are all she can see, painting her vision red. She heaves herself the last foot and snatches a pill up.

“You hear me?” He is crouched in front of her, and all she can hear is the rage in the back of his mind, at her; how _dare_ she do this to him.

“I’d puke if I fuckin’ could! It’s just a copy of the engram - I’m out there somewhere, gotta be…” Johnny’s constant moving is making her sick.

The massive pill is in her mouth and she swallows convulsively, gagging at the sensation, but he is still there, and now towering above her but glitching in and out of focus.

“Ugh. Fuck me…” Johnny is the last thing she sees before she passes out, a blissful moment of silence overtaking her.

* * *

“Johnny,” V seethes, form glitching out in a shimmer of blue data. She grits her teeth against the sudden onslaught of pain, struggling to focus her optics on Johnny as he furiously paces around her apartment.

Their thoughts are like two divergent rivers, and if she reaches out far enough, it almost feels like plunging into an icy, endless ocean of data. Shocking in its clarity, but no less terrifying in the essence of the unknown.

“You ain’t shit, Johnny! Just a rogue fucking AI designed to destroy and over-write, just like the terrorist you originated from. Now I see why Arasaka chose the original Johnny Silverhand as the perfect test subject.” Its all she can do to keep from spitting like a cat, all the hairs on the back of her neck on end like a current of electricity is rolling through her.

V can see him recoil from her perch on the bed, as if she had reached out and struck him. She wonders idly if he will try to kill her again. Johnny’s teeth are exposed in an angry grimace as he reaches out to her, arms coming up as if to grab her shoulders, but he fizzles out of existence in a scattering of code. V can hear the angry growl in the back of her head, and she can’t hold back a cry of pain as he twists the knife that is his Relic shard deep in her mind. Memories, _hers_ , unbidden and unwanted flash before her mind’s eye.

_V, up to her elbows in gore, the Militech agent before her choking on his own viscera. His last breath comes out as a rattle, and with a snap of her teeth, she yanks out her jack from his neural port. V swallows against the screaming fear in his mind of death, of her. Her UI flashes with a confirmation of a completed data download, but when she tries to open it all the files are corrupted, and she bares her teeth in frustration –_

With a furious push of her mind, she latches on to Johnny, wrestling his engram to her will and for a moment she is lost in his memories.

_He is full of animosity, pistol in hand as he screams all the injustice and anger and vehemence towards everything wrong with the world into the microphone before him. It doesn’t help much, but it is physically exhausting, and he hopes with uncertainty that unleashing his animosity upon the eager crowd before him, that the added cocktail of alcohol and Black Lace will dull his mind into silence for the next few hours. Maybe Alt will be backstage waiting for him…_

V screams at the pure agony coursing through her skull, hands curling into claws and digging into the skin of her chest, at the tangle of memories, hers and Johnny’s ripping apart and fusing together again into something new. Her voice breaks, the back of her throat awash in copper, a fine mist of blood escaping her mouth with each exhale and she gags.

_They are storming Arasaka tower, the glinting silver of the Malorian Arms catches her eye and the swell of appreciation that fills them isn’t entirely his own. Rogue is there, telling them to hurry their ass up with whatever bullshit propaganda they want to feed into Arasaka’s subnet._

There is a violent push from one of them and suddenly –

_He is laying on the roof of Arasaka tower, Adam Smasher, part cyborg, all bastard, is towering over him, spouting off about how he is going to end him. There is a deafening CRACK, and Johnny’s cybernetic arm is useless, sparking and shorting inches from his pistol._

Memories continue to rush through her mind, too fast and numerous for her to single one out, and V refuses to see the point Johnny is making. Notification of a Relic malfunction pings her UI, and the dim light in her apartment is suddenly unbearable. Her optics are unfocused and hazy as she stumbles to the bathroom, knees cracking into the floor as she retches blood and bile into the toilet.

V groans and leans her head back against the wall; the knife twisting in her head is gone, only a dull ache reminds behind her eyes, the tail end of the migraine that is her uninvited mind-mate. She can feel Johnny’s presence besides her, but she doesn’t have the will to move away.

“We aren’t so different, you and I.” Johnny muses next to her. He takes a drag of a nonexistent cigarette, “Both slaves to corporate bullshit, fates decided for us in a sick, twisted world, a city that chews people up and spits them back out, but only after tearing everything good out of them.” V can still feel his general distaste for her, an undercurrent on the surface of his thoughts, but it is lessened; she isn’t sure what his current standing towards her is, but the irony of him being stuck in the head of an ex-spec ops agent isn’t lost to her, and her chuckle cuts short as she retches again.

V knows who she is, what she’s done. She might not know how she got to that point, but did that really matter in the grand scheme of things? Johnny flicks the filter of his cigarette into the shower drain, and it fizzles out of existence before it can hit the floor.

V had been a part of Special Operations for the last six years, her body had been made, or perhaps _remade_ for the purpose of raining destruction and terror upon the enemies Arasaka pointed her at. She had been forcibly evolved into something not quite human, something _other_. Reinforced bones with carbon fiber, monofilament sheathed muscles capable of pushing her harder, let her run faster than the general combat enhancements Arasakan agents usually received. Her nervous system fine-tuned and overclocked, extra nerve endings woven into her whole body; V was able to detect the slightest change in air pressure, internal compass always pointed north, hear the buzz of her own brain’s electrical impulses. At first, she hated it, hated that they had taken her humanity and sense of self, and turned her into a weapon. It had taken months of conditioning, of living on the edge of society and small-time operations for her to truly master her body and exhibit the iron bound control she had now. But she had been their pet project, their _special_ special agent, always one step ahead; maybe that was why they zeroed her without regard to her impressive curriculum vitae (at least she was still alive); solve too many problems and eventually you start to create them.

V stands on shaky legs, braces herself against the bathroom wall and stumbles over to the sink. Fingers close around an airhypo; she tears her shirt off, pressing the point of the needle against the shunt at the base of her sternum and releasing the injector. The familiar rush of chemicals causes the nanos in her blood to buzz into action, the customary yet uncomfortable feeling of the delicate flesh of her throat and chest repairing itself makes her grimace. She leaves the bathroom to pace around her tiny apartment like her unwelcome visitor had been moments ago.

Valerie had been the last name assigned to her in the final mission she completed for Arasaka, before her imminent and forceful removal from Special Operations. Since she had woken up that first time in the underground lab, she was just V.

She still remembers her first breaths of waking amongst stark white walls, pulled from the surgery bay and naked as the day she was born. A thick, viscous layer of fluid clung to her form, full of tiny tittering nanites that delivered anesthesia and nutrients directly into her blood stream while AI guided scalpels dug and carved into her. Thankfully, V thought, she had been out for that part. The friendly doctors in the lab had explained the entire process to her, right down to how her new deadly muscles anchored into her virtually indestructible bones, with tendons like steel wire holding her all together.

V couldn’t remember anything before that, before the smell of antiseptic and crinkling paper gowns and nice doctors chattering away in Japanese about how successful they had been with their new re-creation of her, congratulating each other like she hadn’t been stark naked and dripping honey thick solution on the floor before them. She never asked them about her past, she wasn’t sure if they even knew. Everything that she had found about herself in the personnel file she had swiped had been vague and inconclusive; after that she had stopped looking.

V was a blank slate, her mind a dry sponge and she soaked up all the conditioning of her trainers and superiors without thought, eager to know something, _anything_.

Her pacing continues, and she can feel Johnny nudge her with his mind, and for a moment they feel like two wild animals circling, meeting for the first time with a tentative truce, the shared understanding that they might as well make this work since there was no clear-cut solution at present. She can feel his intentions, and she stills for a moment, cautiously lowering the barriers around her mind and letting him _see_ her.

Johnny takes her nonverbal consent in stride, digging through her mind. The feeling of him examining her memories is unsettling, to say the least; like expecting to be alone but then feeling a finger brush down her spine. At least this time it doesn’t hurt. He is reading her like a book, and she lets him, keeping her mind open while he flips through the last six years of memories like so many loose pages.

“Christ, kid you don’t even know who you were, can’t see anything before ‘Saka took you and made you their slave.” He keeps looking, back to her very first moments and into the nothing beyond that; it makes her head ache again, and she gives him a mental jab before hissing, “Stop that.”

Johnny flickers into view and gives her a thoughtful look, “Okay first things first, we need a plan. Need to talk to Rogue – “

V cuts him off, “Rogue, the fixer?” She laughs incredulously, “Rogue, _Queen of the Afterlife_? And why the hell would she give me the time of day?”

“Because,” Johnny says, irritated, he pulls his sunglasses off to look at her property,”Rogue’ll dance to any tune I play her. Just get us to the Afterlife.”


	2. The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V is walking out of Tom’s Diner; her meeting with Takemura had been mostly fruitless, him having come to the same conclusion of Rogue being their best chance at information; V just hopes that her meeting with the fixer would yield something she could chase. Her only other option was to get in touch with Parker, and after the fiasco that was the heist, V wasn’t sure if Evelyn had even stuck around after the entire disastrous affair. V pulls up her interface, flicking through her contacts until Judy’s name pops up.

V is walking out of Tom’s Diner; her meeting with Takemura had been mostly fruitless, him having come to the same conclusion of Rogue being their best chance at information; V just hopes that her meeting with the fixer would yield something she could chase. Her only other option was to get in touch with Parker, and after the fiasco that was the heist, V wasn’t sure if Evelyn had even stuck around after the entire disastrous affair. V pulls up her interface, flicking through her contacts until Judy’s name pops up.

_Ah well, worth a shot._

She activates her holo, the line only ringing once before Judy’s surprised face projects on her UI, “V…? That you? Sheesh, thought you were… gone.”

V can’t stop her brows from furrowing, “You’re not alone in thinking me dead… thought it was game over for me too.” It _was_ game over for her, for a few hours at least.

“Listen, need to find Evelyn.” V can’t keep the urgency from her voice.

Judy is short in her response, nerves bristling, “I really don’t wanna talk about her…”

“Know where she is?” She’s starting to beg, and she hates it.

“What’d I just say? Drop it. I won’t tell you again.”

“Can we meet? Let’s meet, please? You at Lizzie’s?” The call drops as soon as the question leaves V’s lips.

_Shit_.

* * *

Its dark by the time V pulls up to Lizzie’s, the familiar Mox bouncers greet her at the door, “Hey, haven’t I seen you here before?” A baseball bat is slung over one shoulder, pink hair done up in twin buns, she gives V a slick smirk; her skin looks like it’s been doused in oil.

“Sure, but I didn’t come through the front. Here to see Punchin’ Judy, she in her den?” V’s answering smile is full of teeth, and her expression has the bouncer laughing and giving her a once over.

“Yeah, go ‘head and take the stairs down. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

V pushes through the front doors of Lizzie’s, not stopping as she weaves through throngs of mostly naked Moxes and the occasional outsider. The mix of loud, throbbing music and bright pink neon lights is overwhelming, setting her on edge. V worries at her bottom lip without thought, slinking past the hallway of brain dance booths. She descends the stairs down, following the familiar route to the club’s basement, only pausing when she hears raised voices inside Judy’s den.

“Stop tellin’ every joytoy you meet to come here. The hell am I s’posed to do with ‘em all?” A tall woman in hot pink boots is standing across from Judy, neon blue and green body suit showing off her full figure. V does her best to get a scan on her without being conspicuous.

Judy is sputtering out a reply before the woman interrupts, “Since you’re so concerned about strays, go take care of your guest.”

“Suze! We’re not done here!” Judy says, exasperated.

“Oh yeah we fuckin’ are.” Susie Q pushes past V and disappears deeper into the basement.

V steps across the threshold of the double doors, and Judy sits heavily in her chair, “You just don’t give up, do you?” It doesn’t sound like a question, and V has the good sense to look chagrinned, “Got nothin’ more to say to each other. Thought I made that clear.”

“Listen, have you seen Evelyn? Need to talk to her. It’s important.”

“Why, so you can make her your scapegoat for your train wreck of a heist?”

“I just need to find out who she was working for.”

Judy gives her a shrewd look, “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Judy, you don’t need to worry – I won’t lay a hand on her.”

The editor sighs, hands coming up to rub her eyes before she replies, “Fine. Evelyn’s a doll. Used to work at Clouds. Cig case on my table’s got the address. Take it, and once you find Evelyn, give it to her.”

“Megatower? Luxurious…” V says, mostly to herself. She slips the glossy cigarette case into her back pocket, giving Judy a nod before heading towards the door.

“Wait. Umm… Just let me know how she’s doing, okay?” Judy’s voice lacks any of its previous venom, and she doesn’t look at V when she asks.

V studies her for a moment before replying, “Give you a call, okay?”

“Thanks… Thank you, V.” The formal note in her voice effectively ends the conversation, and V slips out the double doors she came through. She heads towards the exit, pausing when Johnny flickers into view, leaning against a metal rack full of boxes.

“A doll. Why am I not surprised?”

_You’re an engram in a fading mind. Nothing should surprise you anymore._

Johnny pulls a cigarette from his vest and lights it, cybernetic fingers clinking against the spark wheel as he cups his other hand to protect the flame.

He inhales deeply and blows smoke in her face, “So, we gonna hit this place – Clouds?”

_Why the hell not?_

* * *

The heart shaped face of Skye looks at her serenely, eyes softly lit and gazing at her with something close to adoration. Their conversation hadn’t exactly been what V had been looking for, and if she was being completely honest with herself, she had _enjoyed_ it. The last person she had any sort of actual, meaningful conversation with had been Jackie.

V fucking misses Jack, he had been the first person she knew outside of Arasaka, the first person she could confidently call her friend. She closes her eyes and imagines his face, the stupid haircut that he insisted looked _preem_ ; she can almost hear his voice, asking her what’s wrong and why she looks so sad. V lets the hollow, empty ache that he left in her soul fill her up, wallowing for a moment as Skye runs an unfamiliar hand across her cheek, thumb coming up to smooth across her eyebrow.

She lets out the breath trapped in her lungs with a sigh, “ _Samurai_.”

* * *

V is leaving Clouds, walking through the filthy exterior level of the megatower when her UI starts to go fuzzy around the edges. She replays her conversation with Woodman in her head, shooting off a message to Judy with details and plans for a meet up at the medical office of one Doctor Fingers.

_Sounds like a James Bond villain,_ Johnny says, she can feel his smirk curving her own lips.

_Who?_

He doesn’t grace her with a response.

The sudden scent of food stalls surrounds her, making her stomach churn, and she prays that she can keep it together long enough to get away from all the _impressionable_ people around her. She punches her fist into the call button for the elevator, and Johnny sidles up beside her, leaning against the concrete wall of the building.

“Got a real charm, this place, in that slimy, subterranean kinda way.”

_I’m sure all the frequent flyers around here feel the same. Do you think Fingers’ got her? Think we’ll find her there?_

“V, if I could see that far, I wouldn’t be a fucking ghost on a chip in a corpse’s head right now.” Johnny says around his cigarette.

The elevator finally pulls up, metal grate screeching open and V stumbles inside, pinging the elevator to the ground floor and closing the doors before anyone can get in behind her. The ride down makes her head spin, and sudden hacking coughs are wracking her frame; her hand comes away splattered with flecks of blood, and she wipes it away on her pants. Her lungs are burning and she can’t breathe, UI distorted and out of focus. Johnny pops back into existence, forever leaning against the metal grate of the elevator, one foot supporting his weight.

“You had a plan, you tried, it fell flat; now you’re flat – don’t look in any condition to find Hellman.” Johnny’s voice is matter of fact, and V disregards him as she makes her way out of the elevator, stumbling around like she’s drunk. She only makes it a couple steps before she’s choking again, the high-pitched shrill in her ears forces her to clamp her hands around her head, feeling likes she’s going to be ripped apart any moment.

“Ugh, the hell’s that?” At least she isn’t alone in her misery. A ping pops up on her UI:

_Relic Malfunction Detected_

Something cold is clasped around her upper arm, guiding her to a corner and an overturned crate she can rest on.

She sits on it heavily, the edges of her mind full of smatterings of data, they feel like a million tiny needles stabbing at her brain.

“No, no _dammit…”_

_Jesus… the fuck do you want from me?_

V can barely hold her head up, Johnny is suddenly in front of her, pulling a stool out of nowhere and slamming it down.

“It’s all goin’ too slow. Gonna decomish before we learn how to rip the thing out.”

_Wanted me dead, said so yourself._

“Made it pretty clear since that I changed my mind. Want you to live now.” Johnny pulls his aviators off as he talks, looking at her fully.

_Asked you already… what the hell you want from me?_

“I got a get-out-of-jail-free card. I’d be a fuckin’ fool not to take advantage.” Another cigarette is pulled from his vest, and he turns away from her.

“See, me and Arasaka, we got a half-century-old score needs settling, and I plan to do it. That’s what I need you for.”

V idly thinks about how a _terrorist_ is telling her all this, and Johnny cuts the thought off before it’s even fully formed.

“Listen, I know things, where we can save your life, who can help us do that. You’ll get rid of the chip, I’ll smash ‘Saka – win-win, kid. Soulkiller’s what we need and Mikoshi’s how we grab it.” He twists around to stare at her, eyebrows pushed down in a frown.

_Okay, so this… Mikoshi – what is it exactly?_

“Okay, basics. If you’re jacked in, cruisin’ the Net, Arasaka can use Soulkiller, an AI, to trap, fry, and pack away your psyche, your mind, and your soul.” Johnny is talking with his hands, and V’s eyes glaze over as she watches his cybernetic arm flash and move in the light.

“Followin’ so far?”

V jerks, pulled from her thoughts and accidentally answers out loud, “Oh, yeah sure, that’s how you became a construct.”

“Exactly. Now, Mikoshi’s the place Soulkiller operates out of, where it stores its victim’s engrams.” He takes another drag from his cigarette, flicking ash off the glowing end.

_Still don’t see how Mikoshi’s linked to my chip problem._

Johnny sighs and gives her a sharp look, “Not the brightest bulb on stage, huh?”

V can’t even be properly angry at the jab, her head is still pounding, and she rubs at her temples, trying to focus on what he’s saying.

Johnny continues his spiel, “Fifty years back, ops on the human mind – Mikoshi was the sole place on Earth where they did anything like that.” He takes one final drag from his cigarette and throws it down, crushing it underfoot, “Bet it still is today. Tellin’ ya, all roads lead there. It’s where we’ll settle our biz – you yours, me mine.”

_Okay… and how do you plan to smash Arasaka this time? Got another nuke hidden somewhere? What was the first one called again? Oh yeah, the Demolitron._

V snickers, giving herself a mental pat on that back for that one, and Johnny continues like she hadn’t spoken, “This time the bomb’s named Alt Cunningham.”

* * *

It’s been close to fifty hours since V’s seen the inside of her apartment or slept for that matter; for a normal person that might have been debilitating to the point of nonfunction, but V was built to go for long periods of time without rest. Back when she had fought in the Unification War, she had gone weeks without proper sleep, using stims and caffeine to force her brain into overdrive. But now, with the Relic eating at her gray matter, she is exhausted after a malfunction and the mess she pulled Judy into.

The neuro-enhancer she’s been sucking on every few hours was finally empty, and she resigns herself to the realization that she must go home at some point soon. She crumples up the empty inhaler and throws it in the back of her car.

The stunt she and Judy pulled to get Evelyn from the nest of Scav’s had taken its toll, her clothes were soaked in blood, most of it hers after their stealth mission turned into a full-fledged fire fight. She had attempted to hack into their network, and everything seemed to be going fine; at least until she forgot to deactivate all the cameras. It was a stupid, rookie mistake, one that would have found her dead three times over working for Arasaka. An injection from an airhypo had taken care of the worst of the damage, staunched the bleeding and closed the surface wounds, but she could feel a bullet wedged in her back, lodged between two ribs and too close to her spine for comfort. Scav fucker had got her good, and she repaid him tenfold for it.

After helping Judy cart Evelyn up the stairs, V calls Viktor, grateful for the odd hours the doc kept as it was now just after four in the morning.

“Hey kid, must be bad if you’re calling at this time of night, or day I s’pose.” Vik’s voice is gruff, but she can hear the underlying tone of affection he reserves for her.

“Not that bad, just need help getting a bullet out.” V grits her teeth as she drives, weaving through the constant traffic in Night City, posture stiff as she tries to keep her back from pressing against the seat.

“’Nother bullet huh? Drop on by the clinic. I’ll fix you up.”

V takes the back entrance, not bothering with going through Misty’s front; she pushes past the gate and descends the stairs, not slowing until she sees Vik working on his tools and tuning up the spider-like extensions on his fingers, “Hey Vik, thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Anytime. Where you get hit?”

V turns around and pulls her shirt off, modesty be dammed. She hears a low whistle from Viktor, “Damn lucky that didn’t hit your spine, V.”

V responds through clenched teeth, “You don’t say.”

Vik moves over to the surgery table, adjusting it until it lays flat. V sits on the edge and holds out her arm, but Vik is shaking his head, “Its local, V.”

_Oh, right._ The lack of sleep is catching up with her.

Johnny pops into existence besides her and gives her a sly look, “Wow, nice rack V.” She flips him off and stretches out on the table, synth-leather cold against the bare skin of her belly and chest, making her shiver.

_Eat a dick, Johnny._

Viktor watches her flip off empty air, and he raises his ever-present glasses to look at her properly. V groans and hides her face against her arms, not wanting to explain. Vik takes her silence in stride, and pokes at the noticeable lump between her ribs; she bares her teeth, “ _Ow._ ” Vik is pressing the quad needles of the anesthetic injector into the muscle along her spine, and she finally relaxes as tingly numbness overtakes the left half of her back. V dozes as Viktor works over her, and too soon he is prodding her awake.

“…I’m awake. How long it been?” Her voice is rough, and she coughs into her fist.

“Five minutes. Muscle kept reknitting before I could get it out. Sorry it took so long, but you’re good to go V.” Vik is sliding on his chair back to his terminal, giving her a modicum of privacy.

V scoffs, “Yeah sure, thanks Vik. I got your eddies from last time for you too.” V stands and stretches, finally able to breathe deeply. She transfers the sizable sum over to him before he can disagree, but he tries anyways.

“Nah kid, you need it more than me.”

She laughs hoarsely, “Can’t take it with me Vik.” He sobers at her tone, before giving her a single nod, “Well all right then.” He is already tuning his holo back to a wrestling match, and V stoops to retrieve her blood-soaked shirt from the floor.

It’s a short drive from the ripperdoc’s den to her apartment, and she stumbles out of the elevator, drags herself up the stairs and manages to stand under scalding water for a few minutes. She falls into bed and is instantly asleep.

* * *

The first time Johnny looks at V, _really_ looks at her, he thinks she is a demon summoned from his own personal hell, just to make his second chance at life a little more miserable. V’s eyes are the same shade of green as Alt’s, and that makes him hate her just a bit more.

He pops into existence to pace around the darkened interior of her apartment, the sun just beginning to peek through the open blinds; a miniscule shaft of light falls across V’s face. She looks much younger in sleep, the sharpness of her cheekbones looks less violent, less wild with her eyes closed. The shadows beneath them are dark as ever, and he frowns.

Before he can consider his actions, one hand is coming up, index finger brushing against V’s lashes, to expose one glittering green cat eye to the early morning light. He watches her pupil go from a nearly invisible slit to a wide void, almost hiding the color of her iris from him; lashes flutter against his finger. Johnny lowers the barrier around his mind, brushing against V’s unconscious thoughts, confirming she is still dead to the world. He can see flashes of dreams skitter across the surface of her mind, like an insect running across water too quickly to sink.

Johnny moves his finger, letting V’s eyelid slide closed.

_Why does she lay like that?_ He thinks to himself, rubbing at the stubble on his face. She’s practically vertical across the bed, one leg hanging off and foot almost touching the floor; it’s almost comical, and he exhales sharply. He presses a thumb into the crook of her elbow, feeling her muscles twitch at the pressure. He can feel the edge of her dreams turn tumultuous; almost every night since he’s been stuck in her head has been full of nightmares, gruesome, bloody dreams from her time with Arasaka. Sometimes he even catches glimpses of his own memories, twisted, changed, and blended with her own into something new and terrifying. Those dreams are about war, it was what they had in common and it made sense that those overlapped the easiest – his the Second Central American War, hers the Unification War.

_Nothing’s really changed, has it?_

Johnny sighs, allowing himself to be pulled from existence; he slides back into V’s head likes it’s a black hole, impossible to escape. He goes willingly into his nook in the back of her mind and focuses on the budding nightmare blooming before him.

He is smoothing it over before it can take shape, focusing hard on the only thing ever able to truly relax him – endless blue waves and sharp, salty air. He matches the steady rhythm of the sea with the beat of V’s heart, and he can almost hear the cry of gulls overhead, feel the heat of the sun on his face, or maybe it’s V’s face, the shaft of light growing brighter as dawn passes into morning, and finally afternoon.


	3. The Empress

It’s V’s second time at the Afterlife, and it’s still just as harsh and loud as the first, and she’s not even all the way past the inner doors. Emmerick is posted at his usual spot, the hulk of a man watches her approach with a frown. She stops in front of him.

“Hey.” V raises her hand and offers him a smile, but she thinks it comes out more like a grimace. He gives her a once over, “Get in,” and moves out of her way.

She walks past him and Claire is behind the bar, calling her over, “Hey, V!” At least _someone_ is happy to see her.

“Hey, Claire.”

“Did you wanna talk about my offer?”

“Actually, here to see Rogue.”

“Oh hey, no worries. Swing by the garage and we can talk; did you want anything?”

V mulls it over before deciding, _why the hell not?_ “Sure, I’ll take a shot. Centzon if you have it.”

Claire slides the shot in front of her with a flourish before walking off to yell at a guy across the bar in the process of spilling his drink. V takes a breath and knocks it back, relishes in the burn in her throat.

Claire sways back towards her, “One more for your meeting then.” She says with a wink, filling up her shot glass while mixing a drink with her other hand.

_Who am I to decline?_

The second shot has her rolling up the sleeves on her jacket before she settles her tab. Nothing like a little liquid courage to start the night out right.

Her steps are considerably lighter as she makes her way towards Rogue’s booth, pausing in front of her hustle.

V tries to inconspicuously lean around him and she catches a glimpse of another woman in with Rogue, hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head and leaning dangerously over the fixer.

“– I lost everything. Through you.”

“Let me be plain. Again. Solve your own problems, clean up your shit.” Rogue’s voice is cold and lacks any emotion.

“You know what, Rogue? Go fuck yourself.”

The woman knocks into Rogue’s bodyguard’s shoulder, and subsequently V’s as she pushes past, “Be careful who you bargain with.” The woman spits as she stomps past the bar, and V can’t keep the surprise off her face before turning back, “Rogue? Wanted to talk.” V waves past her bodyguard, attempts to catch her eye. He looks at her over his shoulder before she answers, “It’s okay.”

V steps up to the booth, boots clicking against the floor as Rogue looks at her appraisingly before turning her body to face V, “Not here, not there. Who’re you?”

“Name’s V.”

Rogue pauses for a second, tosses silver hair over one shoulder, “And what is it you want, V?”

Johnny sparks into view, walking across the cushioned bench seat of the booth to sit on the backrest, “All these years… its really her. Fuckin’ Rogue, just kickin’ it back on a couch at the Afterlife. Don’t mess with ‘er, V. She’s got MR-Eyes, see right through you. Just tell her the truth.”

“Need your services. Gotta track someone down.”

“Mhm?”

“Anders Hellman. Hot-shot engineer – worked for Arasaka.”

“Millisec.” Rogue looks into the distance, eyes flashing orange as she holos someone, “Anders Hellman. Pinpoint him for me?”

V looks at her with surprise, one eyebrow raised, “Huh… thanks.”

“Jumping too soon. First, my help’s got a price. Second, and third – Dexter DeShawn, Jackie Welles, T-Bug. Multiple bells ringin’, V. Left a lot of bodies behind, death walks in your wake. Chalk that up to bad luck?”

At the mention of Jackie’s name, tequila bubbles up unpleasantly in her throat, and Johnny’s voice is in V’s ear, “There’s the bitch I know… Ask her about ‘Saka Tower, how they shot me up right in front of her.”

Centzon and Johnny make her brave, and before she can think better of it, she is spouting off, “Wanna go through obits? Really? Fine. Johnny Silverhand - zeroed inside Arasaka Tower, before your very eyes. Got more if you want. Or we could just talk.”

V is lucky looks _can’t_ kill, because the expression Rogue has is downright deadly, “Got ‘nads on you, girl. Don’t like that on every woman, but they seem to suit you. Anyways… feelings be damned, I’ve always said. This is pure biz. You need my help so get those eddies ready.”

A message on her UI pops up, request for payment, and before V even counts how many zeroes are tagged on the end the sum is transferred over, Rogue’s eyes once again flickering orange.

“Come back tomorrow, we’ll talk.”

V slinks back to the booth Rogue holds court in, and Rogue beckons to her. It’s been a full day since her last visit, and V has been doing gigs nonstop to replace the sizable sum she paid Rogue; she hopes the blood drying on her clothes isn’t _too_ offputting.

“Two, please. Bring the bottle.” Rogue’s eyes flash as she puts her order in with Claire, and in the same breath is inviting her to come closer, “Siddown.”

There isn’t much room between Rogue and the man that was sitting by her, and V sits on the edge of the couch, uncomfortably aware of every breath they take, audible to her even over the pounding music.

_“_ It’s not just music. It’s _Samurai_.”, Johnny says with a flourish in her head, he flashes into view, settling on the table.

Johnny’s comment grates on her, and she can’t keep it out of her voice, “Hope you found him.”

“Don’t see that often, determination like yours. Must really need this guy.” Rogue’s hand is too close to her shoulder, and she responds through clenched teeth, “Matter of life and death.”

Rogue smirks, “Haven’t heard that for a while, either.” Johnny stares intently down at her from his perch on the table.

Claire slides matching drinks to them, along with the bottle before sashaying away.

“Go ahead, enjoy.”

V grabs a class, knocking the drink back without tasting it. Rogue watches her with raised eyebrows but says nothing before sipping on her own drink. A man in a bright orange shirt with a tac-vest over it is sliding something across the table to her.

“Thanks, Nix.” He gives her a nod before leaving again.

“Queen of the Afterlife. Who woulda thunk…” Johnny scratches at his beard, the sharp sound audible in her head.

“Got a shard for you – Intel, interesting stuff.”

_Think she’ll help?_

“The Rogue I remember was one cold-ass bitch. But she usually went with her gut. Somthin’ tells me she thinks you check out.”

Rogue’s eyes fade from brilliant blue to their normal hue as she slides the shard out of her port before handing it to V.

“Your Hellman’s not on any payroll, not officially, anyway. But he does pop up in QianT’s confidential stacks.”

Data pops up on V’s UI, photos of Hellman and lines of information flit past her eyes.

“It’s a Kang Tao subsidiary, Chinese corp. Kang Tao’s been using them as a fig leaf for years. Their mask for more ‘sensitive’ operations. All that clear?”

“Sure, sounds to me like they’re preppin’ to transfer him.”

Rogue looks at her incredulously, “How would you know?”

“Might have some experience working with corps. Chinese corpo playbook’s an open one to me. This looks like the classic ‘vanishing pigeon’.”

Rogue gives her a disconcerting glance before continuing, “Decrypted map of upcoming Kang Tao convoy routes.” A topographical map of the badlands appears next, along with travel routes crisscrossing over it.

“Think Hellman might be in one of ‘em? Thing is, which one?”

“Take a look at the specs on this one – a lone AV, no ground support. No linked cargo manifests, either.”

_Weird._

“Sure, Kang Tao sometimes transports stuff unregistered if they want to push it under the table, but… Catch the load on this AV. Already approved in the system, but too low. So definitely no cargo on board, but there is a passenger list – Kang Tao security detail plus one VIP. Transfer from QianT.”

V smirks, “Our boy Hellman.”

“That was the good news.”

_Ah, there it is._

“And what’s the bad news?”

“Bad news is the extraction site. Look – Night City airspace, all this.” A large orange circle covers most of the map.

V frowns, rests her chin against her palm, “Yeah, no way to ‘jack the transport without the NCPD picking up on it.”

“And here, we’re too close to Kang Tao. We even give that AV a dirty look, their backup huscle’ll be on us. But right here’s Jackson Plains. Narrow corridor just outside the city and just out of Kang Tao’s reach.” The map scrolls southward, showing a canyon road between hilly terrain.

“Guess it’s your lucky day.” Johnny pipes up from the table, finally looking at her with a cloud of smoke around his face.

“A dead zone,” V muses, “I’ll grab him there.”

“Gonna need a native to the area, someone who’ll set up the op, cobble together the gear.”

“Even tracking that thing will be a bitch; familiar with the type, saw legacy models during the war. Going to need serious firepower, need a native – know any hick mercs?”

“Just one. Panam Palmer.”

* * *

“Wow, V. Rogue must’ve been pissing herself when you dropped your job in her lap. What are the chances she just had someone lined up to figure your shit out with Hellman?” Johnny is sitting in the back seat of Panam’s beat car, legs sprawled across the empty space.

_Dunno, maybe she knew all along I was after Hellman. Wouldn’t surprise me, honestly. She seems to know the who’s who and what’s what of, well, everything._

They are driving away from the Aldecaldo’s camp, unsuccessful with their attempted recruitment of Mitch and Scorpion, but instead with the help of a beefy sniper rifle currently taking up residence in the trunk of Panam’s car.

V breaks the silence with a question, “So uh, were they in the war?”

Panam glances at her from the corner of her eye, “Scorp and Mitch? Yeah. Panzerboys. They were on contract.”

“Oh yeah, flew those huge transports?”

Panam frowns, “Yeah. They both got some kick-ass combat implants and a stack of _really_ fucked up nightmares.”

“Yeah,” V laughs nervously, “I know the feeling.”

Panam gives her a shrewd glance from the driver’s seat, “Aren’t you a little young to have fought in the war?”

V twists around and lifts her hair, displaying her agent ID number and the familiar tri-branch logo of Arasaka on the back of her neck, “Sure, I was sixteen when I woke up in a lab at Arasaka.” V lets go of her hair and settles back in her seat, not looking at Panam as she continues, “Six months of training later and they had me fighting their war –“

“Wait, wait – _sixteen_? Where were you before?”

“Dunno. Don’t care at this point, whoever I was before is long gone.” V isn’t sure what prompted her to tell this stranger her history, but something in her chest unravels as she does.

Panam doesn’t say anything, but V can hear the leather of her gloves creaking against the steering wheel as her grip tightens. She taps a nail against the arm rest, berating herself for spilling her guts to the first reasonably nice person she meets.

They ride further into the badlands, easy conversation passing between them about everything and nothing; it’s another hour before they reach Rocky Ridge, and by the time Panam and V have scrapped together a plan, it is night.

V is watching the stars solemnly from her crouched position next to the control panel of the power substation; she can hear Panam’s quiet breathing across their holo link. Johnny buzzes in the back of her mind, enjoying the view of the stars with her through her eyes, an unexpected connection between them sparking to life. She lowers the barriers around her _self_ , letting him slide closer to the forefront of her mind. For a moment there is an overlap in sensation, of him feeling everything she’s experiencing, and it loops back to her. It is slightly overwhelming, and he is disappearing back into whatever corner he resides in after a couple of seconds, and she sighs in relief.

V senses the faintest tremble of the earth, and cocks her head to the side, able to just pick up the rumble of an engine.

“Panam,” she breathes, “They’re coming, the Raffens.”

It’s another minute before Panam can catch the roar of her Thorton’s engine, “Let’s take them by surprise. Let’s try to do this quietly. If anything happens, I’ll pick ‘em off. Sound good?”

“Heh, quiet, yeah. Sounds great.” V kicks her boots and pants off, followed by her jacket, leaving her in nothing but her ghost suit. She pulls the hood over her face until it tucks into the neck, completely covering her skin. With a flick of her fingers, she tunes it to camouflage, the cloaking technology woven into the fabric ripples and shifts to match her surroundings. She looks down to see she is mostly invisible in the night and moves her hand to rest on the substation switch.

“Wow, what’s _that_?” Panam’s whisper comes across their link, and V smirks, “Little souvenir from my time with Arasaka. Tech is a little outdated now, but it still gets the job done. It connects directly into my neural port so I can control it through my internal UI.”

“ _Nice_. You’ll have to show me how it – ah shit, now, V!”

V pulls the switch and light floods the intersection; sparks explode from the overhead power lines, and she ducks down behind the metal fencing along the edge of the roof. She hears the Raffens exclaiming as they begin spreading out, one voice shouting orders to search the area.

Panam whispers to her, “Okay, look for the girl with the mohawk, she’ll have the keys.”

“Got it, going silent for now.” V slinks down the stairs, staying hidden among concrete slabs and burnt-out cars as she works her way towards the first figure. She slides a knife from a hidden sheath on her thigh and clenches it tight in one hand.

She is on the first Raffen without pause, one hand coming up to lock his airway, the other with the knife to slit his throat. A spray of crimson arcs from his body, and she keeps him pressed against her until he goes limp in her grasp.

It is almost comical, Panam thinks, the way the Raffen drop suddenly, as if someone had cut the strings supporting them. At times she thinks she catches a glimpse of V, a blur of shadows against the pavement, the slightest displacement against the cracked and faded paint of the gas station, but most of the time it seems like her eyes are playing tricks on her. The sniper on the roof collapses, and then the goon on the highway beneath him.

Through their holo link, Panam hears him gasp as V’s knee is driven into his back, just loud enough to be audible to the next closest Shiv. Before she can even line up a shot on him, a knife is buried in his head.

“Okay,” V sighs, “That was the last one.” She scoops up the keys for the Thorton off the ground.

“Preem. Wait for me in the car.”

V slides into the Thorn, and Panam is not far behind her, “At last. Well? She’s prime wheels, isn’t she?” Panam throws her pants and hoodie at her before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks, and yes, dreamy indeed; no wonder you wanted her back.” V isn’t one for cars, and the array of monitors and buttons makes her afraid to touch anything, but Panam’s excitement is contagious.

Panam pauses for a moment before turning to look at her, “Listen, V… it’s not over yet. Nash wasn’t here and… I have a plan.”

“Panam, we got your car and the merch – “

“Just _listen._ I know where their little hidey-hole is. We’ll take the old unfinished freeway nearby. They won’t be expecting us, I’m sure of it.”

V can’t say she’s really surprised; she honestly _liked_ working with Panam and she sighs before answering, “…all right. Where’s this hideout?”

“Just a hop and skip away. Thanks, V. What Nash did…”

“I get it, can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing.” V shoves her clothes into her backpack, opting to stay in just her ghost suit. She pulls the hood off her face and studies Panam as she drives.

“I placed my trust in him. He was the first person I worked with after leaving the Aldecaldos. After I came to night city. And I granted him my trust. Let’s get this over with, are you ready?”

V flicks her fingers, suit switching to armored mode with a ripple of sleek black scales, “Let’s get ‘im.”

V is flicking blood and assorted gore off her skin before climbing back into Panam’s truck; she is breathing heavily after their tussle with Nash, and she slides the zipper down on her suit to inject an airhypo into her shunt. Her ghost suit could deflect most incoming missiles, but a lucky sniper had clipped her thigh, leaving a gash as wide as her thumb and bleeding heavily. Luckily, the trifilament woven fabric was self-repairing and had only taken a few minutes to close itself. She sighs as her nanos administer analgesia and nutrients to the wound, making her skin flare hot as it repairs.

Panam is already on a call by the time she is able to focus again, “Hey Boz. Got your cargo… No, no fast ones. Come on, lets meet. Sunset Motel.

“I know you’re not kidding. I’m certain to be there.” Panam finishes her call before turning to V again, “Let’s do the deal and start working on Hellman, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

* * *

It’s a five-minute drive from the Raffen hideout to the motel, and V can feel every ache and bruise from the last two scuffles she’s been in. With the congealing blood soaking her leg, all she wants is a hot shower and her own bed. The suit would eventually filter out dead skin cells and organic matter, but it wasn’t the same as getting a good scrub down. She pulls only her hoodie back on, the slightly too large fit goes to her thighs. Who needs pants anyways?

Panam pulls up in front of the motel, stopping in front of what V can only assume are the members of the Sixth Street gang she is making the delivery to.

“They’re here. Let me do the talking.”

“Expecting trouble?”

“No. At least I don’t think so.”

Panam gets out of the truck, box tucked under one arm. V slides out after her, pulling her iron from her backpack and holding it behind the door just in case, but the deal goes smooth enough.

“And what’s this? A bonus of some sort?” Who V assumes is Boz is looking at her with interest, and V can’t keep her lip from curling up to bare her teeth. She is about to tell him exactly where he can shove his bonus before Panam cuts in, “No, she’s my partner.”

“Hmm.” He gives her an appraising look and V resists the urge to flip him off.

It only takes a few minutes before Sixth Street is driving off and Panam is calling her over to get a drink. They walk up to the bar together, and Panam is ribbing her about pissing her off when the edges of her UI start to fizzle. Her head starts throbbing suddenly, the sharp sensation of needles pressing against her brain makes her gag, and she swallows against the feeling while Panam walks ahead of her into the bar. She leans over the railing for a minute, shutting her eyes tight against the spinning in her head before coughing into her fist, blood splattering against her palm. She stares at it for a minute before licking her teeth and wiping her hand against her thigh. V makes her way towards the door, leaning against the wall for support before settling into a stool next to Panam.

A beer is placed in front of her, and she is so thirsty she gulps it down without pause, the alcohol washing the rest of the blood from her mouth. Panam is doing the same next to her, and before she can blink, another bottle is sliding towards her across the bar. She is halfway through her second before Panam is talking, “I’ve come up with a plan for Hellman, but it’s a first draft. Gotta sleep on it, work it out, then we can talk deets. Let’s rent a room for the night, just to stay in the area. No sense in going back to the city now just to head back in the morning.”

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Noah, we’ll need a room. Twin beds, just for tonight.”

V follows Panam to their room, feet dragging by the time the door slides open in front of them. Alcohol buzzes through her head pleasantly, a far cry from the malfunction of thirty minutes ago, and she collapses with a sigh on her bed, not bothering with taking her jacket off.

Sleep comes quickly, and V thinks Panam is saying something to her but she’s already falling headfast into unconsciousness.

* * *

_Hot desert wind licks at V’s face. She huffs and presses her protective goggles tighter against her skin, praying they keep the sand and dirt from her eyes. She pulls at the collar of her tan fatigues, sweat beading along her spine and making her white undershirt stick to her skin. Smog is heavy in the air, a mix of petroleum, human waste, and dust that lingers in the back of her throat. Her combat boots crunch against the mix of gravel and dead vegetation as she makes her way through the camp, and she idly wonders what the terrain had been like before the effects of the nuclear fallout, before anything lush and green had been burned away and replaced with sharp, scraggly creosote brush. Their corporate military encampment is on the outskirts of Mexico City, halfway between the active war zones of Colombia and the relative safety of the Free State of Northern California, a forward camp for troops, tanks and AVs passing through._

_There had been a buzz recently of an insurgency, of soldiers everywhere throwing their corporate banners down and revolting against a power play for the lands of SouthAm. Dozens had already left the camp, stealing supplies and even an AV now and then for the trek back to the NUSA. The corporations running the war were so wealthy, that half the time they didn’t bother to chase the deserters, opting instead for smear campaigns, encouraging civilians to shun and report them as they are discovered. If only V’s lieutenant colonel knew about the revolt happening under his nose._

_V has a plan, her and the rest of her squad, and several others from their company are heading out, tonight, under the guise of reconnaissance and protected by the dust storm kicking up along the mountains surrounding Mexico City. She walks faster, boots kicking up tiny clouds of dust in her wake. She has supplies to gather, fuel stops to map out, and one final confirmation to make among her fellow soldiers before night falls._

_Their tiny revolt had turned into a fire fight, one of her trusted deserters ratting them out to the colonel, and she was so pissed that she had immediately drawn her weapon; she was in deep shit now. She huddles behind crates of supplies, slowing her breathing and forcing her hands to steady on her rifle; it’s not like she wants to injure her fellow officers, but at this point she will do what she must, camaraderie be dammed. She aims down her rifle sights, squeezing the trigger and shooting out a set of flood lights to her left._

_“Linder is there, get him!_ Traitor _!”_

_She breaks cover, sprinting away from the voice but is thrown forward, the heavy rubber of a combat boot kicks out her knee. She rolls to her back and is aiming towards her assailant, but before she can even shoot, her rifle is ripped from her hands; something impossibly cold and biting has her arm in its grip, like the teeth of some great beast, and she rips her arm away, pushing up off the ground and scrabbling for cover, but something is wrong._

_She is off balance and tips to the side, head suddenly spinning, and she gags; her right hand comes up, grabbing at her shoulder, sliding down the skin of her arm until –_

* * *

V comes to with a shriek, shooting up in bed; her left arm is numb below her elbow, like she was laying on it for too long. Sweat slicks her skin and she tears off her jacket, jumping to her feet to pace across the tiny motel room. She slinks into the bathroom, leaving the lights off and turning on the faucet. The water is icy and even in darkness she can see the yellow hue it gives off. She cups a handful, left arm still dangling uselessly at her side, and splashes it over her face, washing the sweat and nightmares off her skin. V runs a hand through her hair, brushes it back and stares at herself in the mirror.

_Fuck, Johnny…_

“Yeah, I know.” His voice comes through softly.

In the darkness of the bathroom, her eyes reflect all the meager light they can, glowing like a cat’s; she takes in the haunted visage of her own face, cheeks slightly sunken, eye sockets dark against her pale skin. The tendons in her neck stand out in sharp relief, and she looks frail beneath the skintight fabric of her ghost suit.

“You’re wasting away, kid.” Johnny appears in the mirror behind her, arms crossed over his chest.

V can’t keep the venom from her thoughts, _yeah, and who’s fault is that?_

Her expression looks empty, even to her own eyes, and she hangs her head, tired of seeing herself. She leaves the bathroom to pace around the room again, the room she’s sharing with –

_Shit, Panam._

V pauses her erratic movements to glance over at Panam, who is still curled up on the other twin bed, the only confirmation of her awareness are slightly glazed brown eyes following V around the room.

“Sorry,” V sighs, sitting on the edge of her own bed.

“It’s okay,” Panam’s voice is thick with sleep, and she clears her throat before continuing, “When Mitch and Scorp came back from the war, they tossed and turned for months; it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Her voice is warm and soft, soothing the frayed edges of V’s conscience. There is a flash of blue static across her vision and Johnny resumes pacing where V left off.

V forces herself to relax, wills her heart to beat slower, and lays back across the bed.

“Whatever it is, it will pass.” Panam continues softly, and V can’t stop the irritated clench of her jaw. She turns to face the wall, hugging her knees to her chest, the waning spike of adrenaline and sweat cooling on her skin makes her shiver.

V hears Panam sigh, the mattress shifting beneath her, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as Panam leans over her before climbing in beside her. V scoots closer to the wall, heart beating painfully hard in her chest at the sudden lack of space between them.

She twists around, “Panam, what are you – “

“Shut _up_.”

One hand reaches out, fingers lacing together with her own in the space between them. Panam’s hand is scalding fire compared to the ice running through her veins, and V can’t stop the shuddering breath that makes it past her lips.

Panam’s eyes are already closed again, the gentle rhythm of her breathing lulls V into a trance, stilling the whir of her thoughts. Since waking up that first time in Arasaka, touching just for the sake of it had been something she avoided entirely. Hands on her skin just felt like entirely too much, too overwhelming with her over-tuned nerves screaming at every little shift around her. So, she avoided it, ran from it even, at least until Jackie had forced his way into her life and shown her that not every touch was painful.

“Jesus, kid. Just relax and enjoy normal human interaction.” Johnny is leaning against the wall, ever present cigarette between his lips.

_I don’t know what normal human interaction is, you asshole._

* * *

“Holy shit, kid. And here I thought I had the best reason to hate Arasaka.” Johnny sounds just as dumfound as V feels, and her grip on her pistol goes slack.

Hellman’s jack is still plugged into her neural port, his scan showing not only the damage the relic has done, but tiny lesions across the surface of her brain.

“Have you been experiencing any abnormal behavior? Heightened emotions, or feeling superior or euphoric?”

“Well sure, but I thought it was…” V’s eyes flicker over Hellman’s shoulder to where Johnny is sprawled across the bed.

“The lesions Arasaka implanted into your amygdala, cerebellum, and hippocampus will still be there, but as the relic further… integrates itself into your mind, you may find that you remember more and more from your past. What a pity I won’t be able to examine it fully…” Hellman continues, but V is too shellshocked to listen.

_I have to get out of here, I have to –_

V pulls his jack from her port, the door to the motel room slams open and Takemura is standing there, eyes locked on Hellman. V thinks he is speaking but she can’t hear anything besides the buzz of a relic malfunction taking over her senses; she clambers to her feet, stumbles her way outside into the coolness of the night.

The screeching in her head peaks, and she falls to one knee. Johnny kneels in front of her, hands coming up to her shoulders to pull her back to her feet.

It’s all V can do to hold on to the balcony railing; Johnny waves his hand in front of her face; the blue afterimage of his hand makes her stomach twist, and she is vomiting over the side of the railing.

“See that? Fuck me, just look at that.” Johnny doesn’t look at her when he speaks, opting to lean against a telephone pole before striding out of her line of vision. V limps down the stairs, collapses onto a bench next to him.

“Sons of bitches…”

_Whatever you gotta say – say it. Got somethin’ eating at your code, that’s clear._

“Been tryin’ to learn how you’re wired this whole time, to know who I’m dealin’ with. Thought you were just unlucky at first, but I kept watchin’ and finally realized what your problem is: always been a corpocog, a replaceable part. Once ‘Saka booted you out, best you could hope for was scav exterminator.”

V can’t hold back a wince, _sure seem to know a lot about my past._ She looks up at the night sky, and Johnny doesn’t look at her as he continues, “Seen flashes of your past, just like you’ve seen flashes of mine.”

_I’m just scared of the day I’ll start seeing your memories as my own. Will I notice the change? Or will I wonder why I even feared it at all?_

“… Worst thing you can do to a human – rip their identity out of ‘em. That’s all I know.” V thinks he feels guilty, the turmoil roiling under their skin at the realization that it’s exactly what he’s doing to her.

_It’s not your fault._

They sit in silence for a moment, before V thinks, _can you just tell me what you want? What you_ really _want?_

“Help me settle my score against Arasaka. That’s it.”

V leans forward, rubs at her eyes until her skin is raw and tender, _Johnny, I think it’s safe to say at this point that we both have a score to settle with Arasaka. They might as well have killed who I used to be. They destroyed her and all that’s left is this_ thing _only good for massacring._

Johnny finally looks at her, eyes hidden behind sunglasses and eyebrows creased into a frown.

“I’ll tell you why I wanna destroy Arasaka, but I’ll only tell you once. I saw corps strip farmers of water… and eventually land. Saw them transform Night City into a machine fueled by people’s crushed spirits, broken dreams, and emptied pockets.” He stands to pace in front of her, “Corps’ve long controlled our lives, taken lots… and now they’re after our souls,” He pauses to look at her, “They _took our souls,_ V, they took us to fight their wars for them, and then threw you away when they were finished.”

V stands to pace with him, willing the lump in her throat away, _we need to end this, once and for all. We can’t stand idle while they burn the world around us. We_ have _to burn them first._

Johnny stops, slides his aviators down his nose, “You finally _get_ it kid.” His hands come up to clasp her shoulders, their mingling determination gets V’s adrenaline pumping, “Let’s delta the fuck out, _we’ve got a city to burn.”_


End file.
